by Terry Brown
At her mom’s quizzical glance, Jamie explained, “It’s an online friend of hers that has cancer.” She turned to Morgan. “Is Amber OK? Did she have to go to the doctor?”
“I’m not sure. It looked pretty bad, though.”
“Let’s call her later and see how she’s doing.” Janet Chandler’s voice was very quiet. “Morgan, forgive me if I’m too personal here.” She hesitated. “It just seems to me, from watching you this week, that you spend quite a lot of time on the computer.”
Morgan stared at her lap.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Chandler said. “It’s really none of my business.” She started to get up.
“No, it’s OK.” Morgan glanced up, embarrassed. “You’re right. I don’t really know why I do it. It’s like I can’t get enough of being online.”
Jamie’s mom nodded slowly. “This may sound like an odd question.” She recrossed her legs. “Do you feel better after you’ve spent time online?”
Morgan picked at the hangnail on her thumb. “At first I did. I thought I was helping people. They were like friends.” Morgan leaned on her elbow, her head resting on her clenched fist. In a voice so low that Jamie and her mother had to lean close to hear, she told them how her involvement in online chat rooms and bulletin boards had taken more and more of her time—and sleeping hours. She reminded Jamie about when they lost the meet—that she’d been so tired that her swim time was affected. Morgan told them everything, holding back the tears that wanted to erupt anew: Jared was mad at her for missing group meetings, Amber had been badly burned, ANNA’s eating disorder could kill her, and even that her mom probably had missed her chance with the New York art gallery when that call didn’t get through.
With her fingertip, she traced a swirl in the woodgrain on the kitchen table. “Jared even said I had an addiction, but I don’t. I just need to cut back. I read about addictions for a friend once,” she added, recalling the checklist questionnaire she’d found for ANNA, “and my problem isn’t that serious. It’s like I know what I need to do, but it’s just so hard!”
Jamie’s mom patted her hand. “Well, an addiction is anything that controls a person, and it’s usually something used to relieve pain.” She paused. “Often addictive behavior is an attempt to hide from reality—to put off dealing with issues that hurt.”
Morgan glanced up quickly. Her parents and sister were gone. Her best friend was gone. Did Mrs. Chandler understand that her Internet friends eased her loneliness?
“Morgan, have you considered asking God to help you stop?”
“God?”
“Yes. Have you ever confided in Him? Because He can help.”
Morgan looked down in embarrassment. “I don’t know if that would work for me or not. I don’t go to church much.”
Jamie reached her hand across the table. “So come. Come with us to our church tomorrow night.”
“That’s a great idea,” Mrs. Chandler agreed. “Would you like to go to Good Friday services?”
Morgan mulled it over. She knew Good Friday was supposed to be some big deal. So why not? It couldn’t hurt. She felt so guilty over all the broken promises to her friends, as well as the lies that had become almost routine to hide the amount of time she was online. She hated herself for being so dishonest. It just wasn’t her.
She looked up then. “Yes, I’d like to go.”
They talked of lighter topics while eating reheated lasagna. After totally forgetting the TodaysGirls.com chat time, Jamie and Morgan decided to watch TV. Finally, at eleven Jamie stumbled off to bed. Morgan wished she felt sleepy, but she was wide awake. She was still worried sick about Amber. Twice she called Amber’s phone number to check on her, but the line was busy both times.
Morgan tossed and turned on the couch, unable to drift off. She didn’t like being alone in the eerie silence. She wondered if there would be any response from ANNA or her mom. After Janet Chandler went to bed, Morgan slipped into the den, turned on her laptop, and checked her e-mail. Nothing from ANNA or her mom, and oddly, nothing from last_wish either. Morgan hoped that didn’t mean bad news, like a relapse or something. For two hours, she answered the fifteen e-mails that had come from many caring people. Each person—except one man who called her idea “computer fraud”—was sending money to the restaurant.
Morgan sat back, turned to look at the VCR, and winced. The blue numbers glowed 2:30 A.M., and the knots at the base of her skull seemed to grow tighter as the clock changed to 2:31. She needed to lie down and get to sleep. Morning would be there in just four short hours as it was. But before she logged off, she recalled the conversation she’d had with Jamie’s mom, then took a guess and typed in addictions.com just to see. Sure enough, the home page popped up with an icon for Internet Addiction Information.
Bracing herself, she clicked the button and read through the questions:
1) Do you use online services every day without any skipping?
2) Do you lose track of time after making a connection?
3) Have you been going out less and less?
4) Do you spend less and less time on meals at home or at work, or do you eat meals in front of the monitor?
5) Do you deny spending too much time on the Net?
6) Do others complain of your spending too much time online?
7) Do you check your mailbox several times a day?
8) Do you log on to the Net while you’re already busy at work?
9) Do you sneak online when family members are not at home, feeling a sense of relief?
But it was the last question that stopped Morgan cold: Do you continue to use the Internet excessively despite significant problems it may be causing in your real life?
Stunned, Morgan clicked on the X to close the window. It was like someone had followed her around, taking notes on her life, and then put it into a questionnaire. And here she was, online at 3:00 A.M.; right after telling Jamie and her mom all the terrible things that had happened because she overused the Net. Do you continue to use the Internet excessively despite significant problems it may be causing in your real life? The question haunted Morgan long after the screen went black.
Not even two hours later, the alarm went off and Morgan dragged herself out of bed. She couldn’t be late to the Gnosh again. She didn’t even know if Amber would be able to come to work. When Morgan and Jamie got to work, Amber was already out front, waiting in her mom’s parked car. Morgan stopped, ashamed at the sight of Mrs. Thomas.
Jamie took Morgan’s arm. “Come on. Amber isn’t going to bite you. She’s probably not even mad—” Jamie cut off in mid-sentence. “Oh, man!” Morgan peered around Jamie as Amber emerged from the car. From elbow to wrist, her arm was wrapped in hospital-grade bandages.
chapter. 11
Morgan looked out the Gnosh window on Saturday at the gray and gloom that had settled over Edgewood. Turning, she straightened the big stack of cards that had just come in for last_wish. From the weight of the red donation box, it was filling up. The breakfast crowd was past, and the lunch bunch hadn’t begun to trickle in. It would be a perfect time to get online and let last_wish know how things were going.
Morgan had her laptop hidden in the office in her backpack, but she couldn’t get to it without Amber or Jamie seeing her. Too bad they’d been online the night before when Maya had e-mailed Dad’s unfair message. No time online at all ? Morgan knew her friends had to see how unreasonable that was; yet, they’d expect her to go along with her dad’s wishes. On the other hand . . . a month ago she would have expected herself to go along with it, too.
Jamie was spending every spare minute in the office, making the price changes on the menus for the spring and summer season. That made it nearly impossible to sneak in to log on to the Web. Money kept filling the donation box, and Morgan wondered if news of more donations was sitting in her e-mail. Or news from ANNA or last_wish.
When she spotted Jamie carrying a stack of printed menus into the kitchen, Morgan grabbed her chance. In the office,
she set up her laptop on the floor behind the desk. She was just signing on when Jamie walked into the office for more quarters from the cash box.
“Morgan! I thought you were going to swear off this stuff.”
“I know.” Morgan flushed with embarrassment. “Please don’t tell.”
“That’s not the point.” Jamie squatted down beside Morgan. “Remember what you told my mom? You said you weren’t happy when you did this. Not to mention what your dad said.”
“I know, you’re right.” Morgan shut off the computer before answering a single e-mail. “I’ll try harder.”
“We’ll talk later, but right now, we’ve got customers.”
Most of the Saturday lunch crowd was high school students, and even though Amber couldn’t carry plates of food, she handled taking orders and money with just a little trouble. Everyone asked about her bandages, and Morgan was grateful how Amber downplayed what had happened, leaving out Morgan’s name altogether. Morgan could tell by the way that she held her arm; Amber’s burn still hurt a lot. So, she and Jamie let Amber go home at two.
Morgan could hardly believe it when she glanced at the clock and it said 4:35. When the last two tables finally paid and left, she flipped the sign on the front door to CLOSED. “Hmm, look at those black clouds over the college.” Morgan pointed toward the western sky, where black clouds banded across the horizon, obscuring the descending sun. “It’s going to storm big time. We’d better get moving.”
Together they carried the remaining dishes to the kitchen, and Jamie quickly stacked plates and glasses on the removable dishwasher racks. “Let’s hurry and get these done because if we don’t leave soon, we’ll be dodging lightning all the way home.” She set the greasy pans in the sudsy water to soak a minute. “What about the money in the register since Amber’s gone?”
Morgan had already stuffed the bills into the zippered cash bag. “Dad left a voice mail here and said to leave it in the old roaster pan in the yellow cupboard. He’ll come down tomorrow night when they get home and take it to the bank.”
“I bet you’ll be glad when they’re home.”
Morgan nodded. “I even miss Maya, although I’ll probably need earplugs to stand her for a while. She’ll be so New-York-City-fied that it could get deep!”
The pair scrubbed, scoured, swept, mopped, and stocked as the storm approached. They were hauling out two big black bags of trash when the first faraway lightning lit up the sky. “Still sounds far away,” Morgan said as she hurried back inside with Jamie right behind her. “I know it’s after seven,” Morgan continued, heading toward the office, “but I’ll just take one minute—no more—to let last_wish know how much money has come in so far, both in the cards and the donation box.” Morgan saw Jamie’s eyebrows lift. “I’ll be fast. Just think what a neat Easter present this will be for him and his mom.”
“OK, just this once, but you don’t have time for chat rooms, too.” Jamie followed Morgan into the Gnosh Pit office.
“I know.” Morgan logged on, and Jamie watched over her shoulder as she checked her e-mail.
“Wow! You weren’t kidding about this mail!” Jamie said, watching half a dozen new messages pop up.
“This is a slow day compared to most,” Morgan said, hearing thunder in the distance. “We’re really going to make a difference in last_wish’s life.”
“Well, drop him a quick note, and I’ll go hide the money in the roaster and empty the dishwasher.”
“Thanks, Jamie.” But instead of writing an e-mail message, Morgan clicked her shortcut over to GlobalBuddies.com. Sure enough, last_wish was there. She quickly sent a private instant message.
jellybean14: Happy day B4 Easter!
last_wish: hi! haven’t talked 2 you in a while.
jellybean14: have U been sicker?
last_wish: some, but I’m better today. it’s harder on mom than on me. but she took me 2 the beach 2day. ever seen the CA beaches?
jellybean14: only in movies.
last_wish: what good news?
jellybean14: I have nearly 200 cards already, and over half of them have more than $l in them
last_wish: U R kidding!
jellybean14: it’s 4 real! can’t stay long. storm’s coming. I stashed the cash so I can head home
last_wish: U mean donations?
jellybean14: no, it’s restaurant $$ from today. I had 2 hide it. Dad’s not home yet.
last_wish: UR family coming home soon?
jellybean14: tomorrow finally!
last_wish: bet UR glad. wish U were here. mom’s taking me 4 a drive up in the mountains tomorrow.
jellybean14: mountains AND beaches! No fair!
Just then, a loud pounding on the Gnosh’s front door made Morgan jump. What in the world—?
She heard Jamie unlock the door and voices she couldn’t make out talked quickly. Then Jamie called down the hall. “Morgan! Come on. There’s lots of lightning and it’s starting to rain. Mom drove down to pick us up when she couldn’t get through on the phone.”
Oh, no, not again! And it had to be Jamie’s mother who was trying to get through!
jellybean14: bye 4 now!
She logged off fast, reconnected the phone, and jumped when sharp flashes of lightning lit up the office right through the blinds. Thunder boomed like cannons immediately afterward. “That was close!” Morgan muttered. Then the office lights blinked once, twice—and went out.
Morgan stumbled out of the dark office and groped her way down the hall. The front of the restaurant was pitch dark too, as well as the street outside. When the next bolt of lightning flashed, she spotted Jamie and her mom outlined by the front door.
“Come on. We can beat the downpour if we go now.”
“Thanks for coming to get us.” Morgan skirted the tables and chairs as she hurried to the front. “Let’s get home!”
It wasn’t until they were at Jamie’s house and using flashlights to find their way through the garage that Morgan realized she’d left her computer behind at the Gnosh.
The power was only out an hour, and by then Jamie’s little sisters had returned home from a trip with their friends. They popped popcorn and the two little girls laid their sleeping bags side by side on the living room floor to watch a movie. Two hours later, when the final credits rolled, Mrs. Chandler carefully stepped over her sleeping daughters. “I’m going to bed. You kids should too, since we have church tomorrow.”
“No argument tonight, Mom.” Jamie took her hair out of its ponytail. “I’m beat.”
“Me, too,” Morgan said, grabbing her own sleeping bag from behind the couch and spreading it across the sofa.
However, Morgan turned out the den lights and lay on top of her sleeping bag, fully dressed, for half an hour. She couldn’t explain it, even to herself, but she felt so lonely and cut off from everyone that it was hard not to cry. Everyone in the house was probably asleep by now, and no one in her family would be home until the next night. The only people she knew would be awake were her GlobalBuddies. They usually needed a friend to talk to, too. She just didn’t think she could sleep until she checked in one more time. Her decision made, she crept down the hall to Jamie’s room and shook her friend hard. “Jamie, wake up. We have to go back to the Gnosh.”
“Wh—What?” Jamie struggled up on one elbow. “Go where?”
“To the Gnosh. I need my laptop. We aren’t open tomorrow, and all my notes for my group project are in the computer. I only have tomorrow to do my whole report.”
“It’s too late to go now. I’ll tell Mom to stop by in the morning on the way to church. Go back to bed.” And she rolled over.
Morgan stood, undecided, in the darkness of Jamie’s bedroom. Should she just sneak out and get it herself? She could be back in half an hour. It sounded like the rain had stopped a while ago. She could take the flashlight that was still in the den. No one would notice. She fingered the key in her pocket. She’d just run down to the
Gnosh and use her key to get in—
Morgan froze. Something buzzed around her mind. Oh no! I didn’t use my key to lock up before leaving the Gnosh!
In all the confusion with the power outage, she’d totally forgotten to lock the front door as they’d dashed to Mrs. Chandler’s car to beat the storm.
“Jamie! Wake up! I need your help.”
“Man, I was just starting to have the best dream. I hate that.” Jamie rolled over and Morgan pulled off the covers, quickly explaining about leaving the front door unlocked. “We’ll be there and back before anyone can miss us. Please? I’ll be so in trouble if I leave it unlocked all night. It could have been robbed already! Come on! I don’t want to walk by myself at this hour.”
“This stinks,” Jamie muttered. “You owe me big.” She grabbed a pair of jeans and her baseball cap. “Be quiet on the way out, and don’t wake up Mom or the girls.”
Although it was barely drizzling when they left, halfway to the Gnosh, the clouds burst open again. The girls ran the rest of the way, drenched by sheets of rain. Once at the front door, Morgan twisted the knob and pushed—but the door wouldn’t budge.
“Hurry up,” Jamie said. “I’m like totally soaked already.”
“Hold on.” Feeling sheepish, Morgan fished out her key and unlocked the door.
“I thought you said you didn’t lock it!”
A single icy shiver ran up Morgan’s spine. “I didn’t. I know I didn’t.”
“Then how—?”
Morgan opened the door. Just as she reached for the main light switch, a black shadow rose up not ten feet away. “Don’t touch those lights,” a voice snarled. “Not if you know what’s good for you.”
Morgan halted and Jamie plowed into her.
“Move behind the counter. Now!” the voice snapped. “Sit on the floor. I’ve got a gun.”
Jamie gasped and gripped Morgan’s hand. “Don’t hurt us. We’ll just leave.”